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by mistresscurvy



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-09
Updated: 2011-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistresscurvy/pseuds/mistresscurvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank Iero has a fucking amazing life.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrsronweasley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsronweasley/gifts).



> Happy birthday, bb! Thank you to the usual suspects for looking this over. ♥

Frank is aware of the fact that most people probably wouldn't consider three weeks of changing diapers and picking up dog shit to be a vacation.

There are also probably people who don't think playing in a rock band with your best friends is the world's best job. Some people are crazy. He doesn't give two shits about them.

He loves it all, is the thing. The poop-and-farts aspects of fatherhood and dog ownership are just as real, as important, as the moments on the jungle gym in the back yard, or when Sweetpea gazes up at him from the bed, her ugly-adorable face the best thing in the world. He doesn’t have some bullshit martyr complex, trying to make up for the fact that he’s been gone three weeks out of every four for the last five months. Nothing he does now can _make that up,_ to him or to his girls or to Jamia. It’s just not possible to do. And that’s okay.

He knows why his life is so fucking amazing in ways he didn't even know it could be, back when he was a kid working his ass off to make a band happen in the first place.

The ladies are down for the night, their sleep pattern regular enough now that it's no worse than tour, where he can sleep like a baby on a moving bus but wakes up as soon as it stops. He can usually get himself back to sleep, crawling into Gerard's bunk and wrapping himself around the skinny fucker if he needs to, letting his grumbles and soft snorts lull him back into sleep. He's had a lot of experience grabbing his sleep when he can, which feels like it was training for fatherhood in retrospect. The dogs are all flopped around the house, congregated in groups of twos and threes around the air conditioners.

And his wife is sitting on the bed in front of him, one strap of her cotton tank top down around her upper arm, legs clad in her soft, practically shapeless yoga pants. She's braced up on her hands, elbows locked, and her head's cocked a little to one side as she watches him, a tiny smile starting at the corners of her mouth.

He loves her so much he can barely breathe.

He crosses to the bed and leans over her, cupping her face in both hands and kissing her slow and lazy. He's been home for a week; the fast and frantic and desperate sex of the first few days has shifted back into this again, the times when he can relax a little, explore and still find new mysteries in a body he knows like his own.

He lets his hands trail down the bare skin of her arms, fingertips brushing along the curve of her shoulders and sweeping around her elbows. She sits up a little more, resting her hands on his hips. Her mouth is sweet and warm and lush, both welcoming and challenging as she bites down on his lower lip before running her tongue over where his lip ring used to be, all those years ago. He pulls away a bit, grinning back at her before kissing his way across her jaw and down her neck, licking over her collarbone.

He hears her breath catch at that, and he presses a kiss over her heart before he gets onto his knees, rubbing his face between her breasts. Her hands are up on his head now, nails scratching through his hair as he nuzzles against her. He shifts to his right a bit and begins to lick over her nipple through the fabric of her shirt as his hands work their way under the hem, lifting it up slowly. He takes his time, letting his hands drift over the soft, smooth skin of her belly, tracing along the edges of her ribs as they slowly move upwards.

He feels surrounded by her, by the fresh clean laundry soap smell that says home to him instantly, with the sharper and sweeter scent of her sweat beginning to seep in as well. His fingers finally brush against the curve of her breasts against her rib cage, heavy and warm, and he pulls his mouth away and looks up at her as he cups them in his hands, running his thumbs gently over her nipples. She leans down to kiss him, her heels against the middle of his back holding him close to the bed, and suddenly he needs to see all of her, taste her again.

When he tries to pull away a little she holds him firm with her hands, not letting go until he’s pushed her shirt up all the way to her neck. She releases him quickly and whips it off over her head, and Frank leans back a little and just looks at her, her curves and pale skin and dark eyes, mouth flushed red.

Frank gets his own shirt off, raising his hands up to her face and closing his eyes when she kisses his fingers as he trails down over her lips. He runs them over her neck, down her breasts and around her belly, and finally he hooks them in the waistband of her pants and starts to tug. She lifts up her hips to let him get them off, and he pulls them down off her ankles, throwing them to the side and looking back up at her.

Running his hands up her thighs, he stops for a moment and shakes his head. “You are just too goddamn beautiful for words.”

She smirks down at him. “You always were a sweet talker.”

He kisses the inside of her left knee, brushing his face against the skin. “Just saying what’s true.” He continues to make his way up her leg, the scent of her getting stronger and making his mouth water.

“Flattery is one of your-- _oh,_ ” she sighs as he finally gets his mouth on her cunt, spreading her open with his thumbs as he licks her clit, her taste exploding over his tongue. He hums against her, feeling her legs twitch against his arms as he sets a steady pace with his mouth, slipping two fingers inside easily, her body slick and tight around him.

When he presses up with his fingers she shivers and moans, and he licks over her clit steadily, hand and face already soaked by her. He crooks his fingers and tugs a little, dragging the pads of his fingers over the ridges of her g-spot, and he loses himself in the rhythm, his world narrowed down to her scent and feel and taste and sound. He can stay on his knees for her like this for hours, cock hard and leaking up against the fly of his jeans, the wait and anticipation the best part.

He takes her quickly through her first orgasm, feeling her clench down on his fingers as she shakes against his mouth, hands pressing his face against her. He waits a moment before he begins to stroke over her with his tongue again, reaching up with his free hand and feeling over her stomach until she catches him with her hand and holds on. She’ll come more easily this time around, so he lets himself play a little, the edge taken off, and he shifts the angle of his fingers and gets deeper inside, moaning around her clit at the feel of her body tight and wet and hot around him. He sucks on her swollen clit, flicking it gently with his tongue as he finger-fucks her, and this time when she comes it’s more like a wave that he’s riding with her as he moves his mouth in time to her hips.

Pulling away for a moment to breathe, he rests his head against her thigh and looks up to where she’s propped herself up on her elbows, face flushed and eyes bright. He twists his hand around inside her and her mouth falls open a little, hips pushing up against him, and he smiles. “One more?” he asks, laughing a little at how fast she nods, and he presses his face back up against her, inhaling her scent and tasting her again, the sharp musk softened by something a little sweeter now.

He wants to press his hand against his cock, get his fly down, do anything to relieve the pressure, but his hands are pretty busy, and he’s learned how to wait. He drags out the last one, getting her right to the edge and then pulling back, smiling against her cunt when she tries to pull on his hair, too short to really get a good grip. Her nails raking across his scalp makes his eyes roll back though, and he starts licking her intently again, needing to get as close to her as he can. It takes a little more to make her come this time, her body not quite trusting that he’s not going to keep teasing her, and when she comes it floods over his tongue, his hand and mouth and face slippery and wet when he finally pulls away. Her chest is heaving as she breathes in long, low breaths, and he’s panting, hands working too fast on his jeans as he kneels up.

“Move up on the bed, baby,” he says, shoving his pants down and stamping out of them before getting up between her legs, hips splayed open for him. He hooks one arm around her knee and presses forward, groaning as he sinks so easily into her tight wet heat. She pulls him down for a kiss, faces sloppy together now, wrapping her arms around his back, and he sets a fast rhythm as he thrusts inside her, the slide easy and perfect. She’s still so wet from him that he can feel it on his upper thighs and around his lower belly, smearing over his birds, and he gets his left hand under her ass, pulling her up towards him, sweat-slick skin sliding against each other.

Her hands move down his back, fingers sliding into his crack and pressing against his hole, and he breaks away from her mouth, panting into her neck. “Oh god, that’s,” he gets out, losing the thread of his thought as she squeezes around his cock, “oh _fuck,_ baby.”

“You want a finger?” she murmurs against his ear, and he shakes his head, his entire body shuddering as his hips snap forward again and again.

“I’m not going to make it, just, _oh,_ ” he moans against her neck as he comes, gasping against her skin. She holds him close up against her as he shakes with it, thrusting through his orgasm and finally resting there as he tries to get his breath back. Once his lungs feel like they’re not about to seize up, he gives two final thrusts just for fun before pulling out slowly and lifting himself off of her, rolling over and collapsing onto his back.

He feels totally spent, his body relaxed into the bed so completely that he doesn’t think he could move if his life depended on it, and then he hears the faint sound of wailing coming from down the hall. Lifting up Jamia’s hand to his mouth, he kisses her palm a couple of times before looking over at her, not surprised to find her eyes already focused on his face.

“Want me to check?” she asks, and he shakes his head, leaning over to kiss her once, lingering just a little, before rolling off the bed. This is what he’s here for.

All of it.


End file.
